


Darkness Comes, Right Out of the Blue

by GinnyK



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Episode: s06e07 A Change Is Gonna Come, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-31 04:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15111671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyK/pseuds/GinnyK
Summary: Post ep forA Change is Gonna Come





	Darkness Comes, Right Out of the Blue

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

He can't see out of his right eye? It's been 36 hours since this started and he's telling me now? In the middle of a performance by James Taylor. 

I must have eaten some bad fish at the dinner and it's giving me some freaky nightmare. 

One glance over at my husband, who of course doesn't see me doing so, and I know this is one of those real life, living nightmares, the ones I have nightmares over. 

I don't know whether to throttle him or take him into my arms. Actually he was smart to tell me in a room full of people in formal wear because I can't exactly do either option at the moment. So I settle for holding his hand and trying to keep myself together. The force with which he's squeezing my hand lets me know he trying to hold things together too. 

I just hope we make it through until we're alone. 

***************** 

For two months I've watched him like a hawk. He's been ok, not great, but ok. The side effects from the Betaseron have still been bothering him more than usual and he's complained of being unable to focus. But he's managed to hide everything from everyone but me. And that's what got us in trouble before, the kind of trouble I don't care to revisit. 

To be honest, I hadn't noticed any visual signs and believe me I've been looking. Usually when his eyes are bothering him he doesn't read any more than he has to. The past few nights he's actually made it back to the Residence at a decent hour and he's been reading The DaVinci Code before bed. When his eyes give him trouble he rubs at them and blinks too much. There's been none of that lately. This blindness seems to have come out of the blue. 

And that's the most terrifying part of it. 

***************** 

"Abigail...Abigail," I hear Jed say as he leans over a little. I come out of the daze I was in and realize the music has ended and people are waiting for us to stand so they can get out of their seats. I stand quickly, never letting go of Jed's hand. People start to mill around but nobody approaches us right away, which is odd but it's a good thing. 

"Where to?" I ask when Jed gives me the nod, letting me know he's got his legs under him and he's ready to walk. He shrugs his shoulders a bit, like he's not too sure what he's up to doing. I'm about to just suggest leaving the party when CJ, Toby and Will head in our direction. That's never a good sign. "You ok?" I ask as his hand slips from mine. 

"Yeah, just don't disappear," he says as he takes a step towards them, which puts him next to the last row of chairs in the room. He casually leans against the back of one of them, looking like he's just giving them his full attention as they explain whatever crisis they need to explain. Hope it's a quick one. He leans in to listen to what CJ is saying, nodding in the appropriate places and pointing towards various members of his little huddle like he's handing out assignments. I hear them all mutter, "Thank you, Mr. President", as they scatter in various directions. Jed just stands where he is and looks around for me. My heart breaks as I watch him have to completely turn his body to the right to see me. He gives a weary smile and holds out his hand. 

"Let's get out of here," he whispers as he leans a little closer. I nod in agreement and we make a relatively inconspicuous exit. When we get out into the hallway Jed turns towards me and takes a deep breath as if to say something. 

"Not here," I whisper as I run my hand down his right cheek. He leans into my touch for just a second, pulling away before things get too emotional for the hallway. We're silent for the rest of the walk back to the Residence and the elevator ride up. "Do you want tea or something?" I ask as we step out of the elevator and bid the agents "goodnight". Jed just nods. I can tell he's terrified that I'm about to go off on him and start yelling and screaming. While that idea certainly does have its merits I know it is not the way to go right now. He's got to be terrified and yelling because he kept his symptoms to himself isn't going to be very constructive. "Why don't you go change?" I suggest as I turn on the faucet to fill the teakettle. 

"I'm ok," Jed mutters as he takes a seat at the table. He pulls his tie loose and takes it off, tossing it onto the table. It's then that I realize something, when he was telling me he had trouble tying his tie I'll bet he was trying to tell me more than that. And I blew him off. 

"You tried to tell me earlier, didn't you?" I ask as I pick up the discarded tie and fold it neatly. Jed just nods. I have the feeling that getting him to talk is going to be like pulling teeth tonight. The kettle whistles and I toss the tie down again. 

"So, I figured that by now you would be on the phone to Hackett or whoever is on duty tonight," Jed mutters as I stick my head into the fridge looking for a lemon. 

"It's been 36 hours Jed, I don't really think another hour is going to matter too much," I sigh. My tone didn't come out exactly as I had planned and I'm sure it sounded pretty harsh to him. Honestly, I didn't mean for my words to come out that way. One glance at Jed and the harshness of my tone is confirmed. He's sitting with his back to me, hunched over with his chin resting on his clasped hands. I'd bet his eyes are closed and he's doing his best to keep things under control. I put the mug of tea in front of him and tentatively touch his shoulder. He flinches, nearly knocking over the mug. I move it back a little and over to the left. "Tell me what happened," I whisper as I lean over to drop a kiss on the top of his head. Jed pushes the chair next to him out a little with his foot in a silent invitation for me to sit. 

"The night before last I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. At first I thought it was just dark in the room but when I turned on the bathroom light I realized the vision in my right eye wasn't right. Everything was sort of gray and dim. I passed it off as being overtired or still half asleep. I just went back to bed. 

"And yesterday morning?" I ask in an effort to keep the conversation moving along. 

"When I woke up I knew immediately that something was really wrong. I had very little vision, just vague shadows once in a while. 

"And you didn't think to tell someone?" I think to myself, but don't actually say it. He knows I'm thinking it, and that's enough for me. 

"I wanted to tell you. I tried, I really did, a few times," he sighs as absently stirs his tea. 

"I know you did," I assure him. "I wasn't paying attention and I should have been." 

"It's ok," he whispers. "So now what?" he finally asks. 

"You're going to finish your tea, change your clothes and we're going to call downstairs and see who's on duty tonight." 

"I know that. That's not what I meant," he mutters with more of an edge than I'm sure he intended to use. He glances at me with an apologetic look on his face. 

"Well, going on what you've told me, I would assume a case of optic neuritis, probably the worst one you've had so far. Any pain?" I ask as I gently brush my fingertips under his right eye. 

"Not too much yesterday or earlier today but it's pretty sore now," he admits. I get up to turn on the overhead light so I can get a better look. I can most certainly tell something is not right now. His eye is a little swollen and he has been rubbing at it since we got back up here so it's red and in general very sore looking. I press my lips to his forehead almost hoping for a fever, which would give some indication of what brought this problem on. Just our luck, he's cool as can be. "No fever, huh?" he asks. I just shake my head. "Guess we're looking at a little medical intervention?" 

"I imagine we're looking at a bit more than a "little" medical intervention." 

"Steroids?" he asks quietly. 

"IV steroids." He just shakes his head and judging by the fact that his face just went white, that wasn't such a great idea. "Put your head down," I tell him as I put my hand on the back of his neck. He turns a little in his seat and puts his elbows on his knees as he drops his head down a little. "Are you going to be sick?" I ask as I look to see if there's a Tupperware bowl on the counter. There's one in the dish drainer if we need it. 

"No, I'm ok," Jed whispers before taking a few slow deep breaths. "It's happening, isn't it?" he asks as I get up. 

"What sweetie?" I ask as I put a cool damp cloth on the back of his neck and rub his back. I also grab the bowl, just in case. 

"The MS, it's changing isn't it?" he whispers. 

"I don't know," I answer honestly. 

"But you have to have an opinion," Jed says, pressing me. I do have an opinion, a gut level feeling. Sometimes I'd rather not be armed with so much medical knowledge. Sometimes I'd like to just be Jed's wife, not a medical professional. "You're stalling, Abigail," he says as he finally lifts up his head. "Do you think it's changing," he repeats, more forcefully this time. He wants me to say it, I don't know why, but he does. 

"Yes, I think it is," I finally whisper as I get up and walk across the room. I can't even look at my husband. His world is crumbling and I can't look at him. The room is eerily silent. The silence is broken a few seconds later as Jed stands up and pushes his chair away with enough force to sent it toppling over. The sound of the chair hitting the floor is quickly followed by a few choice words from my husband and the sound of the agent opening the door to see if any assistance is needed. I wave him off and watch as Jed paces in front of the refrigerator. "Honey," I whisper, unsure of what to do or even what to say. He keeps pacing, ignoring me. "Jed," I try again to get his attention. No reaction, he just keeps wearing a path across the room. My own frustration is growing along with my concern for his emotional state. I'm just about to resort to calling him by his full name when he stops suddenly and grabs the nearest thing he can find and hurls it against the far wall. I watch as the wooden napkin holder breaks in two and the napkins flutter to the ground. The agent peeks his head in once again and quickly retreats back to the hall. 

Jed leans against the fridge, shaking like a leaf. As his legs give out from under him he slides to the floor. I'm at his side in an instant. He leans back, resting his head against the door to the fridge. He looks utterly defeated as the tears start to roll down his cheeks. "It's not fair," he says quietly. His tone is surprising to me after a rare show of complete rage. I was expecting a rant against fate, against God, against....against something. Instead I hear the complaint of a child, a simple "it's not fair". 

"No it's not. But we're going to fight it," I assure him. Hopefully my tone conveys more assurance than what I feel at the moment. 

"I don't know how much more fight I have in me," Jed sighs as he drops his head into his hands. And for the first time since being diagnosed with MS there is resignation in his voice, a sound that is nothing short of terrifying to me. I don't even know what to say. Jed props up his head with his right hand and with his left reaches out to me. I grab his hand, bringing it up so I can plant a kiss on his knuckles. "Call downstairs, see who's on," Jed says as he sniffs a little. I pull his handkerchief out of his back pocket and hand it to him before standing to make the phone call. As I sit on the stool talking to Admiral Hackett I watch as Jed gets up and walks to the window. He looks up towards heaven. I think a rant is on the way but instead, he crosses himself and folds his hands in prayer. 

THE END 


End file.
